- Feb 20, 2023
- 324
- 89
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The moor runner's ears prick up as he spots the chocolate-patterned form of Rivepaw approach him at the camp's entrance, cool gaze boring into his trainee with little enthusiasm to offer. Snakehiss could recall the days of his youth, when Badgermoon had stood at the edge of the apprentice's den and roused him out of his slumber for training. He, on the other paw, had a much stricter schedule to adhere to. Snakehiss fully expected Rivepaw to be punctual and ready to embark at the break of day each morning unless stated otherwise. Slacking off and arriving late would not be tolerated by the moor runner, who would quite frankly prefer to be doing anything else than dealing with the likes of children.
The lanky black tom beckoned toward the moorlands on the horizon and meowed, "Follow me, then. Keep up." He would then lead Rivepaw toward one of the first places he had been taken as an apprentice. Green eyes survey the site, a rather grim look surfacing upon his sharp features as distant memories of his former mentor crop up in his mind. "Rabbit's Run. This is where we will be conducting most of our training." The cleared stretch of land, ground trod across and trampled by generations of cats, was ideal for practicing running before taking to the open grasses.
Managing a sigh, his mood burdened by the memories that feel sinful to even reflect upon, Snakehiss plops onto his haunches and instructs Rivepaw, "Go run around that rock and back." He wanted to see how Rivepaw took to running naturally. Her parents were burly and stocky former rogues — mountain men — and were not built to race the moors like cats of his own lineage were. It was yet to be seen if their spawns possessed natural running abilities.
The lanky black tom beckoned toward the moorlands on the horizon and meowed, "Follow me, then. Keep up." He would then lead Rivepaw toward one of the first places he had been taken as an apprentice. Green eyes survey the site, a rather grim look surfacing upon his sharp features as distant memories of his former mentor crop up in his mind. "Rabbit's Run. This is where we will be conducting most of our training." The cleared stretch of land, ground trod across and trampled by generations of cats, was ideal for practicing running before taking to the open grasses.
Managing a sigh, his mood burdened by the memories that feel sinful to even reflect upon, Snakehiss plops onto his haunches and instructs Rivepaw, "Go run around that rock and back." He wanted to see how Rivepaw took to running naturally. Her parents were burly and stocky former rogues — mountain men — and were not built to race the moors like cats of his own lineage were. It was yet to be seen if their spawns possessed natural running abilities.
